Whispers In The Attic
by leaysaye
Summary: A few months after the royal visit, the King's valet returns to Downton Abbey. Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis, slash
1. A Surprise Visit

"Mr Ellis! Now, there's a surprise."

Mrs Hughes's voice carried from the kitchen corridor into the pantry, where Thomas sat updating the wine ledger. His head snapped up. No, it couldn't be…could it?

"Please forgive me the intrusion, and so late in the day." The voice was definitely Richard Ellis's, and even though they'd barely spent two days under the same roof, hearing it gave Thomas a feeling of deep longing. "I was on my way back from York, and wanted to look in on Mr Barrow."

There was a short pause, and Thomas's mind was flooded with the memory of the speaker's smile. His heart beat all the way into his throat.

"Mr Barrow?" Mrs Hughes was her usual stern self, wary of anything that disturbed the rhythms of the servants' day.

Thomas pressed the nails of his good hand into the palm, willing himself to stay in his chair. If he rushed out and revealed his excitement, he'd put himself and Richard in the line of fire.

"I found the pocket watch that I thought he'd like to see. It's a Rensman, it was given to me by the King." There was a pause, and Thomas held his breath. "Andrew said Mr Barrow was in. If he's busy, I'm happy to wait."

"No, no." Mrs Hughes sounded resigned. "I dare say he can spare a minute."

Thomas bent over the ledger, pretending to study the inventory of Merlots. The names of expensive wines danced before his eyes.

There came a knock on the half-open door. "Mr Barrow, Mr Ellis is here to see you."

Hoping that his face wasn't as flushed as it felt, Thomas looked up. Mrs Hughes fixed him with her unwavering gaze, but the disapproval he had expected to see was absent. She nodded, as if to give her blessing, and stepped aside.

There was Richard, with his smile that made every room light up. The basement pantry seemed to glow, and a happiness flooded through Thomas that no man had ever caused him to feel before. He smiled in return, unable to prevent his feelings showing on his face.

"Thank you, Mrs Hughes." That was his voice, though he could barely credit having formed the words.

"Is Mr Ellis going to stay for dinner?" she asked, always the pragmatist. "And shall I have a room made ready in the attic?" She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, Thomas's only inheritance from his father. "It's already gone six."

Richard came out of his reverie and gave her a tempered down version of that magic smile. "Only if it's not too much bother."

"I'm sure Mrs Patmore's stew will stretch to one more." She returned his smile a little grudgingly. It comforted Thomas to know that he wasn't the only one unable to resist Richard's charm. "Dinner is in fifteen minutes." With that, Mrs Hughes closed the pantry door firmly behind herself.

Thomas's chair scraped on the flagged stone floor the moment the door clicked home. He rounded his desk in under a second, only to freeze and stare at Richard in amazement. Richard grinned, turning his hat in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Not since he'd been a boy could Thomas remember his voice squeaking like this.

"Bringing you a watch." Richard opened his jacket. "It's in my pock—"

The rest was cut off when Thomas caught his face with both hands and kissed him fiercely. Richard closed the remaining distance between them, deepening the kiss. He looped one arm around Thomas and pulled him flush against his body.

After a minute, they had to come up for air. Thomas studied Richard's face. How had he ever lived without knowing this man?

But then he frowned. "Your last letter said you wouldn't be coming up to York until next month." They'd planned to meet at the pub where Richard had taken Thomas on their first outing – preferably skipping the trip to the police station this time.

Richard shrugged. "I couldn't wait that long." His hand came to rest in the small of Thomas's back. The gesture filled Thomas with heat from head to toe. Until now, he'd kept half an ear on the sounds coming from outside the room, but it was becoming harder to concentrate on anything other than the man in his arms.

"Is everything all right at the palace?" He tugged on Richard's lapel.

"Everything's perfectly fine." Richard's voice was soothing, but a tightness had come across his features. "It's only that I won't be able to get away for the next two months or so, and I wanted to see you before I'm caught up in the mayhem."

"What mayhem?" A sick feeling bubbled up in Thomas.

"The first valet has handed in his notice, and I will have to be around while we find and settle in his replacement."

"Don't you want the job?" The words were out before Thomas could think what he was saying. Richard's face clouded over. Thomas's heart sank. He looped a hand around Richard's neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply—" They'd only been corresponding for a few months and hardly knew each other at all. Still, he was astonished that someone would turn down a career jump like this.

"I'd have even less time for myself, Thomas. Which is the last thing I want right now." Richard's gaze grew soft. "You don't know what it's like." He glanced around, seeming to remember where they were. "Actually, maybe you do." He cupped Thomas's chin. "As hard as it is to believe things are changing, even here in England. This way of living, with servants who have nothing but a half-day a week and a salary the fraction of a factory worker's, will soon be in the past."

"But surely, at the palace, change won't come for a long time? The King will always need a valet."

Richard shook his head. "I don't want this life, not forever."

"What are you saying? Where are you going?"

Richard seemed to feel Thomas's distress. He caressed his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not saying I have no ambition. I have plans, and I shall tell you all about them." The mischievous smile was back. "But first, let me kiss you again."

4


	2. Night At The Abbey

The servants' quarters at Downton Abbey were a lot more modest than Richard was used to. It didn't concern him. He hadn't come here to enjoy the luxuries of big rooms and fancy dinners.

He removed his jacket and shoes, but remained otherwise fully dressed. Lying down on the narrow bed, he listened to the house settle down for the night. There were few servants here now, and only Thomas and the two footmen had followed him up the stairs to the male servants' corridor.

A second bed stood next to his, stripped of linen and with the blankets neatly folded at the foot end. This house, like others of its kind, used to require a small army to remain operational. But since the war, and with the many labour-saving devices invented in recent years, that number was shrinking all the time. Whether he wanted to know it or not Thomas Barrow would be the last butler at Downton Abbey. Richard was willing to bet money on that, though he'd never bring it up with Thomas. Their encounter today had made it clear that he wasn't yet ready to see the writing on the wall.

"Good night, Mr Barrow." The voice of the younger footman drifted through the gap under the door. Or was he a hall boy? Richard couldn't remember.

"Good night, Albert."

Richard smiled. He liked Thomas in the role of the dignified butler. Having met Mr Carson on his last visit, it was easy to see where the man had learned his trade.

Truth be told, he would like Thomas in any role, and he could think of a few he'd try out with him as soon as he got the chance.

But he reined in his impatience. Only when he'd heard no sound outside his door for ten minutes, and the faint echo of voices from the women's corridor had fallen silent, he took the towel from the back of the door and slipped out of the room. Being on the way to the bathroom was the simplest of excuses, but simple had often served him best.

He tiptoed the few yards to the corner room and knocked.

"Richard."

Thomas's smile was radiant. They hadn't explicitly agreed on a rendezvous, so Richard was gratified to discover that he hadn't misread the signs.

Thomas stood aside and Richard entered. He looked around. The butler's quarters were hardly bigger than the room given to visiting servants. Considering that Mr Wilson, the King's Groom of the Back Stairs, had his own servants, Richard was once again reminded how far removed they were at the palace from what life in service was really like.

"They don't exactly shower us with luxuries here." Thomas closed the door and followed Richard's gaze to the single bed. "You must be used to a lot more comforts."

"It's of no concern to me." Richard turned to him. "You're here, that's all that matters." He chucked his towel onto the nearest chair and reached for Thomas. As he brought their lips together, the sensation of being complete at last that had first gripped him in the butler's pantry seized him again.

Thomas relaxed into him. He gave a long, shuddering sigh, then laughed softly.

Richard held him at arm's length. "What is it?"

Thomas leaned in again and rested his forehead on Richard's shoulder. "Nothing. I just realised that I've been holding my breath in your presence until now. I hate that someone might come bursting in at any moment."

Richard carded through the other's thick, dark hair. "One of the things I won't miss about service."

Thomas glanced up. "So you meant it, what you said earlier?" He looked distressed. "You plan to give up your position."

Richard knew where Thomas's aversion was coming from. Their families were similar enough for them to have been instilled since a young age with the conviction that life in service, in a fine house, would be a remarkable stroke of good luck. His own parents, who had been drapers before passing the shop on to Richard's older brother, had been as proud as they could be to have a son working for the King.

"I'm planning a change, that's correct." Richard tipped Thomas's head back and looked deep into the dark grey eyes. "You have to trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"But you won't tell me." There was an edge in Thomas's tone, a wound whose origin Richard could only guess at. He'd felt the loneliness in the man, the tight grasp Thomas had on all emotions, whether dark or light, the first time they had talked at length. The bridled feelings behind the stormy eyes were directed at him now, and Richard felt a stirring in his loins. His pulse sped up.

"I'd rather show you." Before Thomas could voice his evident confusion he urged, "Come to London at the end of next month. Can you arrange for a few days off?"

Thomas looked thoughtful. "I can try. As long as nobody is staying, all duties can be managed without me for a day or two." Then he grinned, showing the pointy eye teeth Richard had fallen in love with at first sight.

"What's amusing?"

"Mr Carson would have a conniption if he knew I was contemplating taking entire days off for my own amusement." His grin widened. "Especially if he knew who I was planning to meet."

Richard's hand glided down Thomas's body. "But Mr Carson isn't in charge here anymore."

"No," Thomas agreed, sounding almost surprised. "I am."

"So you are." Richard hooked his fingers into Thomas's waistband, tugging loose his shirt. Thomas shuddered as Richard undid the buttons. They were both in shirtsleeves, and a mere minute later, the skin of their bare chests touched for the first time.

"I…I haven't been with anyone in…well, a long, _long_ time." A flush crept up Thomas's neck. Richard was pleased by how his pale skin lit up with colour, all because of him.

He cupped Thomas through the fabric of his trousers, smirking as he palmed his excitement. "We can stop whenever you want," he whispered. "You just say the word."

"Don't…don't stop." Thomas was breathing hard. Richard tightened his fingers, and he whimpered.

Richard slipped his hand inside, closing his fingers around hot, silken flesh. Thomas inhaled sharply, then growled from somewhere deep inside his throat. He tugged on Richard's trousers, having little effect since his hands were shaking so much.

"Steady," Richard murmured. "Here, wait." He withdrew his hand, which made Thomas moan in distress. "Shh, it's all right. Just one tick."

With gentle nudging and caressing, he got them both out of the rest of their clothing. Then he guided Thomas onto the bed, pulling him close and spreading the blanket over them. The room wasn't cold, but Thomas was shaking. Richard stroked his back. "You'll be all right in a moment. Come here."

"Hmm." Thomas crowded close, hiding his face in the crook of Richard's neck. His face felt warm, and soon did, limb by limb, his body. His stiff member twitched against Richard's naked thigh, and Richard took hold of him again.

"Rich, I…I…" Thomas's hot breath tickled Richard's skin, making his own arousal pulse and thicken.

"Yes, love, that's the general idea." Richard reached around Thomas's back and pulled him closer, until he could grasp hold of both their cocks at once.

Moaning, Thomas threw back his head. He gasped, biting his lip as Richard stroked up and down both lengths. A slickness budded at the tip of Thomas's member.

Thomas rutted against him. His eyes fluttered shut, but before they closed entirely a look of pure fire electrified the room. "Richard," he gasped. "Oh, hell." With one last shudder he collapsed into Richard, hot seed spurting forth. Not a moment later, Richard followed him into oblivion.

When he could think again, Richard leaned forward and kissed Thomas gently on the forehead. Thomas was still breathing hard, but a smile crept onto his lips.

"Blimey," he whispered. "I never knew it could be like that."

5


	3. A Trip to London

The train rattled southward and Thomas was trying to read the paper. After twenty minutes, he gave it up as a bad job. Nervousness and guilt coursed through his veins, and he couldn't concentrate.

In his career as a servant, he'd never played truant. He'd lied, even stolen once or twice, and there had been a time when he'd been less than kind to his fellows and masters. He was more ashamed about that than he'd ever admit. But since becoming butler at the Abbey, he'd discharged his duties with the most scrupulous self-discipline.

Mrs Hughes, the only member of staff with the authority to challenge him, had surprised him again when he'd informed her of his plan to go down to London. Heeding Richard's advice, he'd merely stated that he had business to attend to and would be gone for one night. "You don't owe them a run-down of your private affairs," had been Richard's words as they'd made plans in Thomas's room.

There had been a look of surprise on Mrs Hughes's face but she had merely advised him to be back in good time to prepare the house for the visit of the Earl of Shrewsbury, who was due to arrive three days later.

Thomas had a feeling that Mrs Hughes suspected more than she let on, but he was grateful to have her support. Until now, the fact that everyone downstairs seemed to know his secret had dismayed him. Now he wondered if that was such a bad thing, after all.

Thomas leaned back in his seat. Even in third class, train travel wasn't unpleasant. Abandoning the paper, he looked out of the window instead, letting his eyes take in the countryside and his mind wander to its favourite current occupation – dreaming of Richard.

He could still hardly credit it. In a few hours, he would be holding Richard in his arms again. A smile crept onto his lips, and Thomas was grateful that the man in the worker's cap opposite was occupied with his packed lunch and didn't pay him any mind. Closing his eyes, Thomas could conjure Richard's smile without difficulty, and his heart leapt. He'd finally found someone who cared about him.

It had been Richard again who had suggested the arrangements. "Book this guesthouse," he'd said after they'd spent the night in Thomas's room, handing Thomas a piece of paper with an address and telephone number. "The rooms are reasonably priced and clean, it's in walking distance from the palace, and the landlady is deaf as a post." He'd grinned mischievously.

"I take it you've recommended this establishment before?" Thomas had pocketed the paper, unable to keep an edge out of his voice.

Richard's smile had turned gentle. "Not recently, I haven't."

That memory, and what had happened afterwards, only ten minutes before the servants' breakfast was due to commence, made Thomas blush.

When he got to King's Cross, he splurged on a cab ride to the guesthouse. Richard would meet him there in the evening. They'd found and settled in a new first valet at the palace, but in order to get the next day off, Richard had to pull double duty for the rest of the day.

They'd decided not to try and get Thomas access to the palace. "Why draw attention to ourselves?" Richard had written in his first letter after visiting Downton. "The place is a breeding ground for gossip. I want to stay with you all night, without worrying that someone disturbs us – and no, I've never suggested that to any of my out-of-town visitors."

The landlady was ancient and wizened, and Thomas felt slightly alarmed at how loud he had to shout to make himself understand. Once he had secured his room, he took advantage of the mid-day quiet in the house and took a long bath. Then he put on his best suit and went out.

He ambled slowly, watching people go about their business and soaking up the sun. He didn't know London as well as he would've liked. He'd only ever been in town as a servant in the employ of Lord and Lady Grantham, and while the servants sometimes went to the pictures in a group, on his own Thomas had never strayed far from Grantham House in St James's Square. His most memorable London experience had been the sojourn to the gambling club with Andy and Miss Denker.

Maybe Richard would take him to the West End tonight. He'd been circumspect about their plans, and while Thomas appreciated discretion, the fact that Richard kept things so close to his chest would take some getting used to. There was a lot they had yet to learn about each other, and sometimes Thomas struggled with the urge to force it all out at once.

Soon, he found himself in St James's Park. It was pleasant, watching the geese and swans, listening to their honking and standing on the edge of the glittering lake. Through the trees Thomas caught glimpses of Buckingham Palace. Richard was in there right now, going about his work. The place was so close, yet so far away it could have been the moon. At any other house he could've walked up to the servants' entrance and asked to speak to the valet. It bothered him more than he would admit that this was impossible here.

On his way back Thomas got a little lost. As he approached the guest house, Richard was already waiting outside. Thomas's heart leapt. He couldn't stop his feet from hurrying their pace.

"You're early." He narrowly stopped himself from flinging his arms round the other man.

"Not very." Richard grinned. "You're late."

"I got turned round at Hyde Park Corner," Thomas admitted. "I went for a walk, and overestimated my sense of direction."

Richard chuckled and threw him an impish look. "Then we'll have to make sure you come down more often and familiarise yourself with the area."

Thomas blushed. His mind was going to entirely unsuitable places, and if they wanted to enjoy an evening outside the confines of his room they had to get away from that dangerous territory. "What have you planned for us, then?"

Richard indicated Thomas to follow and they strolled towards the nearest intersection.

"I thought dinner at the Ritz might be nice," Richard said, off-hand.

Thomas stopped dead. "What?" His hands were suddenly clammy. "You're not serious, right?"

Richard laughed. "No, I'm not." He gave him an appraising look. "Though I could probably get us in if you wanted to go. Finding a place to rent the appropriate attire would take an hour, tops."

"If it's all the same to you I'd prefer to go somewhere that doesn't require rented white tie," Thomas said with as much dignity as he could muster. It was sometimes hard to predict Richard's fancies, and he was keen to get him to drop this particular idea.

"All right." Richard bumped him lightly with his shoulder before continuing down the street. "But tell me if you change your mind. It'd be terrific fun." He flagged down a black cab before Thomas had quite recovered.

He gave the driver an unfamiliar street address.

"Where's Greek Street?" Thomas asked as they settled into the leather seats.

"Soho," Richard replied. "There's a fine little bistro there, and it's close to our second destination."

The tiny, smoky restaurant was indeed very fine. Every single one of the small round tables covered in chequered cloth was occupied, and a waiter brought them strong red wine and delicious crunchy bread the moment they took their seats. Richard studied the menu, asked Thomas what kind of meat he preferred, and ordered for them both in immaculate French. It sounded immaculate to Thomas, anyway.

"I feel like we're in Paris," Thomas said when the waiter departed. "Or what I imagine Paris to be like."

"This place is pretty authentic. The wine would be a lot cheaper in Montmartre, though."

"You've been to Paris?" Thomas wasn't even sure why that impressed him so much. It wasn't like he'd never been anywhere. His time in New York with Lord Grantham had been quite educational, and pleasant. But around Richard, he felt like a country bumpkin a lot of the time.

To his surprise, he didn't mind that sensation very much.

"Not in a long time." Richard twirled the stem of his glass between his fingers. "Maybe I'll take you one day." He glanced up, not looking all that cocky now. "Would you like that?"

Thomas's heart was full to bursting. "What do you think?" Richard grinned, relieved.

They ate their delicious lamb shank and coq au vin, and Thomas let his gaze wander around the bistro. On several tables, two men sat close together, just like he and Richard. He asked in a low voice, "This isn't one of _those_ places, is it?"

Richard followed his gaze. "No," he said once he realised what Thomas was getting at. "But there are some around. Soho has had quite the transformation in recent years." He caught Thomas's eye. "Would you like to experience a little of the forbidden city?"

Thomas vehemently shook his head. "No, thank you." After what had happened in York he'd had enough of illicit dark bars.

"I didn't think so, somehow." Richard's tone wasn't teasing now. He seemed to remember the same thing. "Don't worry, I hadn't really planned that. Especially since I got us tickets for Lady Luck, the musical that's just opened at the new Carlton Theatre. It's supposed to be very good."

To Thomas it was all the same. He knew little about theatre, and was just happy to be taken places by such a handsome and sophisticated man.

The musical was entertaining enough. Thomas laughed at the funny bits, felt emotional a few times and clapped and cheered with everyone else. But mostly, he focused on how Richard's leg pressed against his in the low seats, and on Richard's hand that squeezed his fingers or his knee whenever the theatre was especially dark.

Before catching a cab back to the guesthouse, they stopped at a pub of the bog standard kind, and each had a pint of lager. Thomas hardly tasted his because he was so happy to sit across from Richard at the sticky table, grinning at each other every so often, their legs intertwined where nobody could see. He knew he'd never be this happy again.

That was until they got back to the guest house, horsing around in the corridor, giddy with the fun they'd had. Neither was drunk, and the only after-effect of the wine and the beer was a certain deliberateness. They locked the door to Thomas's room, then undressed each other slowly in the light of a streetlamp, falling into the musty-smelling sheets to make sweet love, once, twice and then a third time, before falling asleep in each other's arms, not to stir again until daylight woke them since they'd forgotten to draw the curtain.

Richard, bold as brass, slipped out of the front door when the coast was clear, only to reappear ten minutes later in the breakfast room clutching the morning papers. Apparently this was a repeat performance, as the old landlady greeted him loudly and familiarly and brought a second cup to the table where Thomas sat, his mouth hanging open at Richard's daring.

Grinning, Richard looked around the nearly empty room. Certain that the few other patrons were engrossed in their own affairs, he reached across the table and closed Thomas's mouth with a gentle swipe of the thumb. "Mind, love, you'll catch flies."

Thomas recovered over toast and porridge, finding that lovemaking was hungry work. "You really are something else," he said between bites, and Richard gave him a lewd smirk over the Times.

"Will you still not tell me where you're taking me?" Thomas asked when they stepped out of the guesthouse. Richard's grin was that of the Cheshire cat.

"You'll find out very soon." Richard consulted his priceless pocket watch. "When's your train back?"

"Not until three."

"Oh good." Richard set off down the road. "I was hoping I could take you to lunch."

"But you treated me all the way yesterday already."

Richard gave him one of his radiant smiles. "And I'll treat you every day of your life from now on, if you'll let me."

Thomas opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. "If only that was possible."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Richard touched his arm lightly. "This way. It's not far, I thought we'd walk."

They soon left the upscale residential streets of Mayfair behind and entered the commercial area near Regent Street. After about ten minutes, Richard turned left into a street lined with elegant storefronts. "Just up here."

"Savile Row." Thomas frowned at the street sign. His confusion was absolute. Did Richard want his help picking out a new suit?

They stopped before a dark storefront. The awning was rolled up, but Thomas could make out the words _Auden Suits and Apparel_. Richard pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door. The _Closed_ sign swung back and forth.

Richard gave a little bow. "After you."

Thomas looked around. With the lights off, the shop was gloomy, but he could make out racks of white shirts, several expensive-looking three-piece suits on mannequins and display cases full of ties and cuff links. He looked more closely at the ties. A couple of them looked familiar, and he wondered if Lord Grantham had ever patronised this shop.

"What do you think?" Richard's voice sounded anxious and Thomas turned to him.

"This is a very fine shop." He took in the rows of buffed shoes and expensive hats. "Whose is it, and why do you have keys?"

"It used to belong to my uncle. Now it's mine."

Thomas's head whipped around. "Yours?"

Richard nodded. "He left it to me. He died a few months ago."

Thomas couldn't take it in. He said the first thing that came to mind. "What are you going to do with it?"

"I plan on running it. So far, Uncle Alfie's associate has been keeping things ticking over, but I handed in my notice yesterday. Soon I'll be able to look after it myself." Richard took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for Thomas's reaction.

"But you're not—" Thomas broke off. It wasn't his place to tell Richard what to do.

Richard seemed unperturbed. "A tailor? No." His eyes took on a faraway look as he stared at the suits. "I nearly became one, though." He motioned for Thomas to follow him behind the register. It was darker here, and that seemed to help. He took another deep breath. "My family have been in the cloth trade for a long time," he began. "My parents are drapers, my father inherited the business from his father. My grandparents on my mother's side owned a milliner's shop. And Uncle Alfie, my mother's brother, built this shop up from scratch. He learned how to make suits at a sweatshop in the East End, and he was very, very good at it. His suits are famous all around the country." Richard smiled, and it looked more like the smile Thomas knew. "He never married."

"Are you…do you mean he was…like us?"

Richard shrugged. "It's a possibility. I never asked. He took a shine to me, though. I was a very tidy boy, very precise. I preferred drawing over roughhousing, and I think that appealed to him." He grinned. "And I was a very pretty child."

Thomas returned the grin. "That I can believe."

Richard chuckled. "Flaneller." He took Thomas's hand, seemingly without thinking about it. "I started here when I was fourteen, and worked with Uncle Alfie for two years. Then one day this very proper gentleman asked to speak with me. Apparently I had also caught his eye. His name was Mr Payne, and he was the King's Groom of the Back Stairs before Mr Wilson. They needed a new boy to train as footman and to help with the clothes for the new King. So I began to work in Edward II's household at sixteen, and that was that."

"But your uncle never forgot you?"

Richard smiled. "I made sure he wouldn't. It's not that I wasn't grateful to the fates that brought Mr Payne into the shop. But I always wondered. My uncle worked hard to build this shop, and he spent a lot of extra hours here, poring over accounts and order books even on weekends and holidays. But he was the one in charge. He could come and go at his own leisure, and he was never at the beck and call of anyone." He looked around himself. "I think he was truly happy here."

"And now you will be happy," Thomas said, doing his best to mean it. But Richard looked thoughtful, so Thomas asked, "Or will you?"

"I've recently started to wonder if London is really the place for me."

Thomas's heart beat faster. Richard looked deep into his eyes. "It seems I have an awful lot of business up north all of a sudden." He shrugged. "And people need suits in York, too, or so I hear."

"Do you mean it?" Thomas's voice quavered.

"Remember when I came to Downton last month?"

Thomas blushed. "How could I forget?"

"Right." Richard tightened his fingers around Thomas's. "I never told you why I'd been to York, which suited me fine at the time. The fact is, I'd already started wondering if it isn't time to move back up there. I looked at a few shops, bigger than this one. I think I'd do better with hiring several tailors and make clothes that are affordable to bank clerks and lawyers. My uncle's associate, the one who has been keeping the shop running, he's actually from Ripon." He grew thoughtful again. "I'd never considered it, but maybe he wasn't just Uncle Alfie's associate."

"Looks like more than just fabrics run in the family." Thomas grinned and Richard gave him a nudge.

"The cheek. Anyway, I'd started wondering, because even though we'd only met the once and had exchanged a few letters, I was starting to have these feelings." He looked guilty. "I must confess, I made you come south to see what it would be like to spend more than just a few hours with you. I didn't trust those feelings that were based on nothing but sweet words on the page. " His eyes shone with affection. "Now, I trust them fully."

A display case with pocket watches and snuffboxes stood next to the register, hiding part of the space behind the counter from view. Thomas took Richard by the shoulders and pushed him into the shadows. When Richard's back hit the wall, he leaned in and kissed him long and tenderly.

Richard reached for him. He pulled Thomas close, their bodies pressing into one another. Richard's heart beat against Thomas's chest, hard and fast. It cost Thomas all his willpower not to rip the other man's clothes off.

When they broke the kiss, Thomas stayed leaning into Richard. He quirked an eyebrow. "I've changed my mind, you know."

"Oh?" Richard looked surprised. "About what?"

"I think you leaving service is an excellent idea."

12


End file.
